ASBO Eyes

featured in the poetry forum August 3, 2022  :: 0 comments

… even the drug-dirt beneath your fingernails reeks of us, baby…

We [Just] ‘Go Together’, yeah
… like Crack/Cocaine abuse,
blown Heart Valves and
Nasal Reconstructive Surgery.
She’s the pretty-tipsy-swish
to my sleazy-drunken-sway
… the Smash to my Grab…
we ‘Mirror’ each other both
Negatively and Hysterically.
Encouraging the ‘SHINE’
in our FLAWS… we Push,
we Fall… we Join, where
the ‘normal folk’ step over
our gutter-kerbside romance.
Hand-in-hand we’re a RIOT
… apart… we’ll purposely
get Arrested… just to Speak
‘Sweet [Insane] Nothings’
through cold Police Cell walls.

editors note:

If they say so, embrace it. (An anti-social behaviour order is a civil order made in Great Britain against a person who had been shown, on the balance of evidence, to have engaged in anti-social behaviour.) – mh clay

Keyholed Renaissance [New Doorways & Fresher Seeds]

featured in the poetry forum May 31, 2022  :: 0 comments

If I was Impressed I’d Smile,
Annoyed I’d Laugh…
but, your Proselytizing
is bringing out only Silence.
Metanoia is not ‘Repentance’
she is a lady of ‘Regret’
… and is far more relatable
than Kairos [Unfortunately].
I’ve spent 7 days Fasting
everything but ‘Symbols’
… I’m far outside
the GRASP of Persuasion…
and WOBBLING around
upon the fragile platform
of this calm [Inner] Patience.
I’ve Discovered something
a ‘Knowledge’ Hidden
inside a creaking-doored
Solitude… and I would like
to share my new Miracle…
but, you just will not Shut Up.

editors note:

How to controvert a con. – mh clay

You’ll Need To Bathe If You Want Me To Do That Again

featured in the poetry forum March 29, 2022  :: 0 comments

Whoops, I nearly broke my neck
upon that discarded Love Egg
… where were we?
oh yes, I was right here, wasn’t I.
Ouch, that’s pinching… careful
with those ‘Personal Questions’.
Nah, I’m staying for a bit
… I like watching you dressing,
whilst my ‘Emotions’ are settling.
Oh, long stripy socks, for sure
… ask a Punk Rocker, innit.
Aw, all my hats suit you…
except that one, I’m only jesting
… you look Cute-As-A-Button.
It’s not my fault that
‘One More Time For The World’
and ‘I’m Gonna Be Late’…
get me all Excited-As-Fuck again.
20 more minutes, my darling…
then I’m leaving half-dressed
down the back [Dodgy] drainpipe
… just to show your neighbours
how ‘Hot’ you really fucking are!

editors note:

The ultimate in showing love (or, at least, lust). – mh clay

The Pocket-Magpies

featured in the poetry forum January 20, 2022  :: 0 comments

I’ll trade a Sampson Mordan
ruby glass vinaigrette bottle
a third full of the heartbroken
tears of a ‘tricked’ virgin
3 weeks away from dollymop
… for some dry powder,
a skull & bones Gate-Pass…
and a partway-sincere kiss.
Nah, stay away from Uptown
… the house burglary
turned nasty, ugly and fatal
… you can smell the Murder
across most of the Borough.
Let Sammy know I’m ‘round,
I’ll be in the Jack O’ Spades
just afore midnight next
with The Dockside Knives
… they’re inching Territory.
Ha! they not be sex manacle
wrist-wounds… I’m villain…
they only proper heal in Clink.
Later, yeah… be lucky, girl…
yer looking more and more
like yer dear old mother
with each passing 12 month
… I drank so much Belch
I lost two toes and a finger…
the day they swung her Dead.

editors note:

A fond memory, mangled in a midnight melee. – mh clay

A [New Year’s Eve Party] Syncope [Dialogue] Collage

featured in the poetry forum December 29, 2021  :: 0 comments

“… no-no, don’t Corner me, please…
you’re the one with the ‘Words’
… I’ve not been avoiding… you,
I’ve been periphery hovering
… nah, thank you, this ‘Distance’
is good… and necessary…
your ‘Fluidity’ is quite unnerving.
OMG… you’re actually
using ‘Patience’ and ‘Politeness’
as Chess-Moving Weapons
… don’t ‘Smile’… oh dear.
Yes, she explained to you, right?
… aye, ‘Vasovagal’… it’s a bitch.
As long as you stay… Over There
… I’ll be just fine… jittery though,
did we just actually ‘Tune-In’?
Like a straining dog on a leash
… what a bizarre feeling…
it kicked-off in adolescence
… I always hated it until right now.
Oooh, she’s right about you…
you talk with your fingers too
… mhm, me also, very much…
thanks for being such a Gentleman…”

editors note:

It’s not what to bring or how to dress; but what to say that makes the mess. – mh clay

Sorry, But We’re Busy… Tonight We’re Invading Jackson Pollock’s No. 5, 1948 Via Hallucinogenics

featured in the poetry forum October 30, 2021  :: 0 comments

The feel of ‘drizzle’
upon the bottom
of naked feet
after shoulder-squeezing
under the ‘drip’
… is like
smoothly whipped custard
and liquid crayons…
embracing enthusiastically.
Don’t stop me now
… for fuck sake,
outta the way whilst I
whoooooooossssh!
We’ve captured ‘falling’
inside a delicate ‘feeling’
… matchbox it for later.
I see no discarded eggshells?
… controlled ‘mayhem’

tuned-in-so-tight-it’s-breath-taking

complicated self-harm…
and the violence of cackle.
The ‘trick’ is to ‘open’
before you get
your ‘narrow’ on, yeah
… and slide
at the exact moment
that others stall.
Now, study memory later
… present tense is ‘energy’
let’s limbo barbed wire
deeper-in… tut-tut,
me first… or I’ll hurt you.

editors note:

Learning how not to truncate your freak-out. – mh clay

A Servant, I Know, Who Plots

featured in the poetry forum August 4, 2021  :: 0 comments

I stand under no-one else’s umbrella
… I owe nothing to anyone,
except… point-blank Cold Shoulder.
I speak through hawk-plumage,
and in razors-so-sharp… you bleed,
internally, later
… when I have removed myself
far from ‘Suspect’ musical-chair.
I don’t ‘Wager’ I ‘Take’ and Leave
… ‘Vantage Points’ Trapped.
I say the word ‘Tangerine’ often,
it sickens me… but, it reassures,
fools of some childhood thing or other
… and disguises the Predator,
hiding behind that false colour,
shape, and texture… STRIKE!
‘Unbalance’ differs with onion-layers,
the surgery of Interest,
works better dressed in a uniform
of cold, almost theatrical Indifference.
I salute you, fake-sincerely
… a traceless smile within my
heart-that-pumps-nothing-but-piss…
as I lead you forward whilst following.

editors note:

Run for cover when you hear, “Tangerine!” – mh clay

Backwards, Briefly, Into A Fragmented Nostalgic Interlude, Of Sorts

featured in the poetry forum May 3, 2021  :: 0 comments

The word ‘Bellowing’
is a lion’s yawn,
in imagery.
Her hands are timeless,
when kneading dough
… I can see
her shifting ‘Costumes’
back through the ages,
as her fingers work.
Dogs always look like
‘That’ when scratching
… and 3 flying ducks
hung above a fireplace,
always make me feel
nostalgic, & homesick
for the ‘Childhood’
that I should have had.

editors note:

Tested triggers, bitter recall; what was over wasn’t. – mh clay

The Chrysalis Touch

featured in the poetry forum February 9, 2021  :: 0 comments

Wow, and absolutely fucking Wow again!
Last time I saw her…
it was a mugshot in the local newspaper,
dirty hair all-dragged-up in a scalp-bunch
crowning a drawn, scabby, drug-face.
She’d just been given Anger Management,
and a 12-month Conditional Discharge,
with £150 in Fine and Court Costs…
for taking an ex-girlfriend hostage,
and threatening to slice off her perfect toes…
First Offense, and a looming stint in Rehab
… legally, it sounded about ‘Even’ to me.
That must have been over a year ago now
… and I just clocked her swishing, oh yeah,
fucking Swishing her way up the High Street.
Face all full and healthy, eyes glistening,
crap-British-sunshine bouncing off her hair
… and wearing a thin floral, cotton dress,
that would look shit on anybody else but her.
There was a trail of heads a-turning behind
(both male & female) as she swaggered by.
She half-smiled, as she passed me standing
“Wotcher, Pauly… long time no see, hunni.”
I reciprocated the warm affection right back
“Just keep doing what you’re doing, love…
because Lady Luck is your bitch right now.”

editors note:

When you’re no more the bitch; swish, baby, swish! – mh clay

When I Return From A Good Fortnight Of A-Drinking & A-Whoring … In The Self-Absorbed Cocoon Of My Recovery I Oftentimes Forget The Sad Plight Of The Common, Little Man

featured in the poetry forum November 9, 2020  :: 0 comments

My, my, my, I almost made the delicious
Sunflower Sky explode, lushly,
whilst romantically reminiscing
about our ‘Lover’s Tryst’
in that bit of woodland waste ground
out the back of the Abortion Clinic,
back in good ol’ 1969
… yeah, I know neither one of us
was actually born yet, but in cosmic terms,
it was but an excitable, Energy Preface,
to our coming meeting and courtship
this side of the Eternal Spiritual River.

I like how our ‘Chain-Links’
work only by way of ‘Mutual Will’ alone,
how our Thoughts leG-Up each other
over Mental Walls and Barriers
… and how BOTH our Lips
taste exactly like apple-and-plum-pie
the very moment we smirk whilst kissing.

editors note:

Destiny or dumb luck; love is best when smirking a kiss. – mh clay